Hi V!! If It's Not Much To Ask, Could I Request A Tasm Peter Fic Where Reader Encourages Him To Wear

hi v!! if it's not much to ask, could I request a tasm peter fic where reader encourages him to wear his glasses more cause he looks soooo good in them 🥺 you can take this prompt wherever you want lol I just thought it'd be cute. totally fine if you can't/don't want to!! have a great day <33

glasses

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: fluff, head trauma, teasing (as per usual)

a/n: no one in this fic grabs glasses by the lens because i am not a monster

*

you’re humming to yourself as you walk through the door. bag hanging at your side, feet aching from the walk home.

and your neck hurts a bit. tiny pin pricks of pain trailing up your skin like an uncomfortable reminder that you’re still human. and your stomach is grumbling from the lunch you made, and you can feel your head grinning maliciously, the beginnings of an ache coming on.

but you’re home. and it is a welcome enough reminder when you see peters shoes by the door. his bag hung up against the door, camera strap hanging out the side.

a fresh smile warms your face, and even though you know peter can hear you—feel you—you tiptoe into the living room, sliding off your tennis shoes.

you peek around the corner, sneakily looking for a mop of hair and unnaturally tan skin. but he’s not on the couch.

you frown.

sneaking up to tackle peter might be your favorite part of the day.

“peter?” you call into the empty apartment. “hiding is against the rules.”

you walk into the kitchen, biding your time by stealing a couple of grapes and sipping on whatever coffee peter brought home. it’s cold, but sweet, like chocolate milk so you carry it with you.

but when you’re back he’s still not there.

you scowl, crossing your arms. “i am not playing hide-and-seek,” you say, into the abyss. the silence is teasing.

you sit on the couch, turning on the tv just to get back at him. look at how unbothered you are.

you sit there for probably three minutes. sipping on peters coffee, and tapping your fingers against your leg incessantly. of course he would do this. today.

you’re just about to say something to him again—where ever the bastard is—when something falls on your head.

you yelp and move back, staring at the glasses, now smudged, sitting on the couch like a taunt.

and finally you look up.

peters got his hand over his mouth, a smirk hiding behind those eyes. you glare back at him, biting your lip before you can yell at him.

“oops,” he says, dropping himself on one hand so he can fall on the floor next to you, rubbing the new bump on your head. “sorry, bug.”

your mouth is open and you’re staring at him—glowering—as his lip twitches with the effort not to laugh.

“glad you find yourself amusing,” you snap, but your own laugh sneaks up on you before you can stop it.

he holds his hands up in defense. “all you had to do was look up.”

“oh yeah,” you nod vigorously, accidentally elbowing him in the stomach. “my bad for not checking for you on the ceiling.”

“it was in self defense!” peter pleads, sitting down next to you. his eyes are evil. “i was trying to avoid being attacked!”

“so you attack me instead?”

“they fell,” he emphasizes, sliding his glasses back on. “i said sorry.”

“you’re not forgiven.” you turn away from him, laying back on the couch.

“c’mon, baby.”

you pout.

“it was an accident. y’know id never hurt you on purpose. i cant say the same for some people in this house…” he adds on, smiling at you innocently. he ruffles your hair. “i missed you.”

finally you meet his eyes. completely adoring and somewhat irritating. you make a face and groan. “ugh,” you say, shielding yourself from him. “stop that.”

“what?”

you push him away. “take those off.”

peter frowns, trying to look at his glasses, crossed eyes and unserious. “what? why?”

“you cant look cute when i’m trying to be mad at you,” you say to him, reaching for the glasses, “it isn’t fair.”

peter leans back, giggling mischievously. he pushes your hands away. “i didn’t realize you liked my glasses.”

you pause and blink at him, glaring. “everyone likes a hot nerd.”

“so you think i’m hot,” peter drawls.

“you’re literally my boyfriend. we’ve had this discussion.”

peter leans towards you, a smirk playing on his lips. his cheek keeps twitching and it’s getting hard not to laugh at him and his high eyebrows. “i don’t remember,” peter whispers, “you should remind me.”

you poke his forehead, pushing him and his self righteousness away. “why are you even wearing those? you don’t need them.”

“i think my eyes are going bad again.”

his head twitches, and you watch his completely warm and inviting eyes as he lies. he’s staring at you, and you watch as his eyes dart down, then back up.

“oh no,” you coo, crawling towards him, a different feeling emerging in your chest. “let me see.”

you’re an inch away from his face. if you said another word your lips would brush his. you stare into his eyes, watching him flinch at the feeling of your hand on his chest. his breath hits your cupids brow.

“oh yeah,” you whisper, leaning forward, his lips hitting yours. then you pull back, frowning. “you’re going blind,” you say, “there’s nothing to be done.”

“is that the doctors professional opinion?” peter mumbles, swallowing.

“you won’t be needing these anyway,” you say to him, smiling viciously, and stealing them off of his face.

then you push away from him, moving to the opposite end of the couch.

peter clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. there is a tense moment where you both avoid each others eyes.

“is this payback?” peter asks.

“not sure what you mean, baby.”

“my glasses hit you on the head so you hold them captive?”

you smile, wiping a smudge on the lens with your shirt. “don’t worry, we’re just getting acquainted.” and then you put them on, grinning at peter.

“so you can wear them but i can’t?”

“if you want them back…” you push them down your nose, looking at peter through your eyebrows. “i guess you’ll have to come and take them.”

peter snorts and stands up, taking his time walking towards you. his face is dark, his eyes have fallen down your trap, and you don’t plan to let him go any time soon.

as he takes another step towards you, you can feel it. that tension, the magnetic pull between the two of you. and you know that peter would stick to the ceiling just to get away from it. to avoid the undeniable chemistry between the two of you.

and you know that you would jump up and cling on to him.

when peter is one step in front of you, you pout innocently. “did you want something?”

peters movements are undetectable as he throws the glasses off of your face, leaning down over you, all of him imposing and strong and completely right as his hands wrap around your face, his lips just millimeters from yours.

it takes genuine restraint to keep yourself from leaning forward. and you can tell that peter is feeling the same thing.

“am i forgiven?” he asks, voice low and blurred by your want to leave marks on every inch of his skin.

“just kiss me,” you hiss, and the words are nothing but a pencil scribble down the page before peter is on you, and you are on him.

your hands pull on his hair, and you force him to smother you, his chest leaning against yours, his arms falling as you make him let go.

you’d gladly let peter crush you forever, if only he would string your skin together like fabric.

he moans when you scratch at his scalp, and bites at your lip when you giggle in response.

it is no slow kiss, with no more teasing.

you’ve both reached the end of this cliff, and if he falls, you’re going right with him.

it is breathless and rough, and you don’t mind at all as peters hand around your waist pulls you even closer. as his lips attack yours, and his breath contaminates your own.

your hand moves, going to the neck of his shirt and pulling. then around his shoulders, pleading.

peter laughs against you. he moves back, just so he can whisper, “i’ll start wearing my glasses more often if this is the consequence.”

“shut up,” you lean up to him, using his skin for leverage.

his smile is childish and it melts into you.

you breathe against him, unable to keep your own smile back. teeth clash, but neither of you mine or pause.

until peter breathes too harshly, too recklessly. he pulls back, laughing at your face, at your puffy lips and bewitched eyes. “bedroom?” he asks.

you smile back at him, leaning over to grab the glasses he threw beside you, and sliding them on his face. “those stay on,” you tell him.

his laugh echoes as he carries you down the hallway.

*

The 'You Really Think I Don't Know What You're Thinking Right Now' look....

Andrew Garfield on Tonys After Party.

Nathan Lane get right when he says "I love a man in a velvet suit"...

I just love this fanfic. I swear I am Peter Parker for life; he has my heart forever but I have and keep acquiring all these other fanfic men on my key fob of hot guys. Whatever am I to do?!

every time you reblog a photo of glen powell, I just have more respect for Venus cause my horny ass could never reject hangman as many times as she did 

Just think, his parking job was THAT horrendous.

Uh-huh. I, too, am excited as I'd like to discover his 'recipe' for success and if his 'tasting' includes things other than...food. You slow burn taunting us for weeeeeeeeeks. We practically collapsing in the desert like John Wick here.

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 8

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Here 

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, love confessions (but not to each other 🫠)

Word Count: ~2650

A/N: Short little filler chapter here to move the plot along, but next up is the big "recipe testing" dinner!

Thanks as always to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

"So? How was it?" Skyler said as soon as she saw you in the staff break room the next morning.

You laughed and shook your head. "Can I at least make some coffee before you start interrogating me about my brunch?"

"Oh, I already took care of that." Skyler turned and handed you a to-go cup from your favorite coffee shop near the office. "I know how much you hate Monday morning staff meetings and figured I'd get something for you while I was getting my own coffee."

You took a sip and sighed blissfully. "You are an angel, you know that? I owe you one."

Skyler took a sip of her own beverage. "So spill, girl, spill! How was Chef Hottie's cake?"

You shook your head with a grin. "Ok well first off, it's Chef Matt , and secondly, his crepes were excellent once again, as was the omelet I ordered. You really should check the restaurant out for Sunday brunch at the very least, although I'm sure their dinner menu is amazing too."

Skyler took another sip of her coffee as you walked into the conference room together and sat. "How was the rest of your day? Hopefully you did something more exciting than watching a bunch of senior citizens play bingo."

You nodded, smiling to yourself as you thought about your afternoon and evening with Matt. "Actually, yeah. Matt invited me along on his after-work errands yesterday afternoon so I could observe him outside of the kitchen."

"Ooh, so you got to spend the whole afternoon with him? Lucky. So what did you two do together?"

"He volunteers to cook for the soup kitchen at Clinton Church on Sundays after the restaurant closes, so I helped him out with that, then I watched him work out at the gym for a bit, then he asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him."

Skyler's eyes grew wide. "He asked you out on a date ? Way to bury the lede!"

You shook your head. "No, not a date , he just invited me to have dinner with him at his apartment as a thank-you for helping him out at the church, that's all."

"You went to his apartment? " 

You opened your mouth to tell her that it wasn't a big deal but was interrupted by Ellison walking into the conference room. "Okay, let's get this show on the road," he said. "First order of business: Kelsie, welcome back. Glad to see you're feeling better."

You glanced over at Kelsie, who was sulking at the other end of the table.

Ellison looked at his notes. "Okay, so assignment updates! Skyler, how was the fundraiser for the senior center?"

"Great," Skyler replied. "I sent you my article last night."

"Okay, good. Mark, what's going on in sports this week?"

Mark, who wrote the sports column, sat up in his chair. "I've got an interview with Coach Calhoun on Wednesday and Coach Dempsey on Thursday, so the article about the big rivalry between PS 114 and PS 118 will be ready to go for Friday's edition."

"Excellent." Ellison said your name. "How's the Restaurant Week feature coming?"

"It's coming along great," you replied. "Chef Murdock has been really open and cooperative, so it'll be no problem getting that article to you by EoD Wednesday."

Ellison nodded. "Fantastic. Okay, new assignments. Skyler, you're covering the music festival this weekend. They'll have a press pass for you at the gate. Kelsie, since we switched up the Restaurant Week feature you're now going to be handling the daily report on what each participating restaurant is featuring. Everyone else, you know your assignments. Let's get to it."

You stood and picked up your cup of coffee.

"Not enough to steal the Features position out from under me, was it?" you heard Kelsie say from behind you. "Now you're going after the lead story for Restaurant Week too."

You turned and raised an eyebrow. There had been a (one-sided, in your opinion) rivalry between you and Kelsie ever since you and she had both been up for the Features position six months earlier. "Oh damn, you caught me. I made sure that you would get food poisoning just so I could swoop in and steal the Restaurant Week feature when I know nothing about the culinary industry and had never met Chef Murdock until a few days ago after the article was assigned to me. And as for the Features position, I won that promotion fair and square. It's not my fault that my article was better and that you bombed the mock interview, just like you would've tanked this one."

Kelsie scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'm sure he would've been extremely 'cooperative' with anyone interviewing him -- as long as they were female and had a pulse."

You shook your head. "I'll have you know, Chef Murdock has been nothing but professional towards me the entire week."

Kelsie smirked. "Oh didn't you know? Matthew Murdock will do anything -- and any one -- to try to salvage his reputation, so there must be a reason if he's not hitting on you."

Before you could respond she turned and flounced out of the conference room.

"What a bitch," Skyler muttered under her breath.

You shook your head. "I'm not worried about her. Ellison knows what I'm capable of."

Skyler sighed. "Anyway, I want to hear all about your not-date with Chef Hottie. Lunch later?"

You nodded. "Sure."

"Great. I'll swing by your desk around 11:30."

"Okay."

You went back to your desk, dutifully ignoring the daggers Kelsie was continuing to shoot your way, and worked on your other tasks until it was time for lunch.

You looked up as Skyler stopped by, purse in hand. "Ready?"

You nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

The two of you walked down the street to your favorite food truck. 

"Okay, so tell me everything ," Skyler said once the two of you sat down at a nearby table with your food. "Like how you went from going to Daredevil for brunch to a private dinner with the chef."

"There's not much to tell," you replied with a light laugh. "But okay."

You took a breath. "I had told Matt on Saturday that I was planning on coming back to Daredevil for Sunday brunch because the crepes he had made during the cooking demo he did for me were really good, so he told me to get his staff to let him know that I was there and he'd come say hi."

A small smirk graced Skyler's face. "So he was willing to drop everything in order to come talk to you, got it."

You shook your head. "He wound up bringing my order out to me, so while we were talking he asked me if I would be interested in seeing how he develops his recipes so I agreed to stop by Daredevil tonight after work for another cooking demo. Then he asked me if I wouldn't mind accompanying him on his after-work errands since he thought that it would be beneficial to my article for me to spend some time with him outside of the kitchen."

Skyler huffed out a laugh. "Right, beneficial to your article, sure."

You smiled and shook your head. "We went by Clinton Church first to cook for the soup kitchen--"

Skyler held up a finger. "Wait a second. So he asked you to spend the afternoon with him out of the kitchen, then brought you to a different kitchen to watch him cook?"

You shrugged. "I didn't mind. He usually cooks at Daredevil and just brings everything over to the church, but he asked me if I wouldn't mind coming over early and he'd just do his cooking for the church over there instead."

Skyler raised an eyebrow. "Mmhmm, so he could spend even more time with you."

" Anyway, after we finished up at the church we headed to his gym since he frequently goes after service to unwind."

Skyler grinned. "Ooh, so you got to see him all sweaty?"

You nodded. "The arms on that man, let me tell you…"

"And the ass." Skyler did a chef's kiss. "You can't tell me you didn't check out his ass."

Your face heated. "Well… maybe a bit."

Skyler gasped. "You did! I knew you were interested in him!"

You groaned. "He's so handsome and sweet and funny and genuine, not to mention an incredible chef… but I'm writing a story about him for the paper, it's completely unethical for me to be thirsting after him -- even though it's absolutely unfair how good he looks in a tank top and a pair of sweatpants."

Skyler shook her head. "Your story's due, when, Wednesday? After that you won't have to worry about journalistic integrity or whatever's stopping you from jumping his bones. So how'd you wind up going home with him?"

You wrinkled your nose. "Don't say it like that, you make it sound so… clandestine ."

Skyler rolled her eyes playfully. "Okay, fine. Having dinner, happy?"

You chuckled. "Yes. After he was done at the gym I asked him where to next and he said that was all he had left to do so I said okay and that I'd see him later, but then he asked if I'd like to have dinner with him as a thank-you for helping him out at the soup kitchen. I agreed, so we stopped by his plot at the Clinton Community Garden to pick some fresh basil then headed to his apartment."

Skyler waved a hand at you to go on. "Where you…"

You shrugged. "Where I drank some wine and ate some delicious carbonara, then sat and talked with Matt for a bit on his sofa before I went home."

Skyler's eyebrows raised. "Wait, you were serious? Nothing happened between you two?"

You shook your head. "I mean we hugged before I left, but that was it."

Skyler shook her head with a sigh. "Girl, if you can't see what's going on…"

Your brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"He's clearly interested."

"What? No he's not."

"Oh come on. He invited you to his apartment for dinner."

"As a thank-you, I told you that."

Skyler took a sip of her drink. "I'm telling you, girl, the man is into you! He's probably holding back because he thinks you're not interested."

You shook your head and stood. "Come on, we need to get back. I'm sure Kelsie is looking for any excuse to report us to Ellison."

Skyler groaned then stood as well. "Yeah, you're right. But I am too, and you know it!"

You threw your trash away and started back towards the office, your mind racing.

Skyler had to be mistaken. Matt couldn't actually be interested in you… could he?

Matt grinned to himself as he headed towards Clinton Church. He had spent the morning finalizing his plans for your "recipe tasting" dinner and was eager to get started on prep, but he needed to pick up his supplies from the church's activity center first. 

Father Lantom had left him a voicemail that morning saying how appreciative everyone had been of the hot meal and how nice it had been to meet you. 

Matt's mind drifted back to the previous day. While you obviously wasn't as quick and skilled in the kitchen as he was, Matt had still been touched by your willingness to help out however you could, even if it meant doing menial tasks such as slicing up tomatoes and cucumbers and dividing salad dressing into servings. 

God , he had wanted to kiss you when your fingers had brushed against his while you were handing him his measuring cups, then again when you had hugged him at Fogwell's after he had told you about his dad, then again in his apartment when you two stood listening to the rain by his window, then again when you were getting ready to leave…

He sighed. Hopefully everything went according to plan tonight.

He stepped into the office at Clinton Church. 

"Matthew, hello," Sister Maggie, one of the nuns from the adjoining convent, said.

"Hi," Matt replied. "I'm here to pick up my culinary supplies from the activity center." 

"Oh, yes. Father Lantom did say that you'd be dropping by to pick up your things." Sister Maggie took a set of keys out of a drawer. "He's out on an errand at the moment, but I can let you in."

"Great, thanks."

He followed her out to the activity center.

Sister Maggie unlocked the door. "How is the restaurant doing?"

Matt shrugged. "It's… surviving so far. We're not doing nearly as well as I'd hoped we'd be by now but I'm hoping that the article that's going to be in the Bulletin next week will help drum up some business."

"Oh, the restaurant is being featured in the Bulletin? That's wonderful."

Matt shook his head. "Moreso me than the restaurant, but yeah. We're going to be on the front page of the Restaurant Week kickoff edition."

He paused, smiling softly as he thought about you. "Actually the reporter from the Bulletin who's doing the story on me was here with me yesterday."

Sister Maggie hummed. "Oh, yes, Father Lantom did say a young woman was assisting you, but he was under the impression that you two were seeing each other."

Matt shook his head. "What? No, we've only known each other for a few days, although…"

He sighed. "There's something about her that… I don't know, she makes me feel comfortable around her. She's kind, and gentle, and caring…" And beautiful. I have no idea what she looks like, but I know she's beautiful. 

Sister Maggie hummed. "She sounds lovely."

"She really is."

"What's her name?"

Matt smiled as he said your name.

Sister Maggie gave a hum of recognition. "Oh, yes, she's the one who does all of those lovely human interest stories, right? I do enjoy reading those each week."

Matt nodded. "Right."

He bit his lip. "I wanted her to get to know me outside of the kitchen -- for her story, of course -- so I, uh, I took her to Fogwell's after we left here yesterday and wound up telling her about Dad. She already knew about his murder -- she had done some research before our interview -- but I told her about growing up with him and how he always encouraged me to get an education."

Sister Maggie reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "Your father was a good man, you know."

Matt nodded. "I know."

She sighed. "I know I haven't always been there for you in the ways you've needed me, Matthew, but for what it's worth, I'm really proud of you."

Matt nodded. "Thanks… Mom."

"So what are you going to do?"

Matt furrowed his brow. "About?"

Sister Maggie said your name. "She's not seeing anyone, is she?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't think so. At least, she hasn't mentioned anything in that regard."

He gestured towards the kitchen. "She's actually coming by the restaurant tonight to taste-test some new recipes for me, so I better get going so I can get started on everything."

He headed into the kitchen to get his cart.

Sister Maggie gave him a hug as he came back out. "Goodbye, Matthew."

Matt hugged her back. "Bye."

He headed towards Daredevil, his mind swirling. He knew you were attracted to him -- at least physically -- but there had been something holding you back. Could you be seeing someone?

Matt had assumed you were single based on your availability over the weekend, but just because you were available didn't mean you were available. 

He shook his head. He remembered overheating your conversation with that other reporter who had greeted him the day he had brought tiramisu to the Bulletin, during which you had said that you didn't have a boyfriend.

…So then what was it?

I guess we were accidentally on the same wavelength when I used that speeding car gif earlier, haha!

Realistically and from personal experience I agree that Angel's self-admonishment regarding driving when emotional is bad news. But I'm giving her a pass because at this point, who is she going to trust? Better to take the wheel and get the heck outta Dodge than have a driver take you hostage.

Fortunately, the Hell's Kitchen hero is reliable (author teaser) and Angel is lucky he had the scoop on the Vulture and then the BIG REVEAL on Harry. That little stinker. It's a cool twist to the plot though due to TASM 2 and Gwen being taken and now Peter is the one who was nabbed. Plus how you explained Matt's presence was nicely done.

The security code. Ooooooof. Love the arsenal though. One of my favorite parts of the John Wick series. Smart of Angel to grab the web shooters but then she's pretty savvy when she's focused.

But holy cow does that whole scenario throw Angel and Peter into an unholy mess of personal feelings and motivations and baggage. I mean that is some major conflict resolution they are going to have to work through. Revenge, betrayal, death, more betrayal, more death, more betrayal; they've got serious issues here. Most couples just disagree over who forgot to empty the dishwasher...

Great chapter! I cannot wait til next week to learn more!

The Angel In The Garden of Evil | Chapter Seventeen: A Friend In The Shadows

Summary: Angel is ready to run but gets turned around by a friend with some interesting information.

Warnings: 18+ Only, genre typical content, weapons, reckless driving's mentions of murder and poisoning

Word Count 1.8k+

A/N: Another slightly shorter chapter but don't worry our last couple chapters to come are much longer to make up for it. Just like our last chapter though, although it is a little short, it does still pack a punch and flesh things out. Who's ready to find out more about Harry's betrayal?

SEVENTEEN

She shouldn’t have driven. Should have ordered a car, but she didn’t want to risk someone stopping her. Her heart was in her mouth the whole journey, a lump in her throat she couldn’t quite swallow as she took shallow breaths, hands raking nervously through her hair the whole way to the airstrip. 

Her phone rang out from the centre console, yet again. Her fingers raced to decline the call. Tears welled in her eyes. She really shouldn’t be driving.

She slammed on the breaks as she pulled up to the hanger, the tires screeching against the tarmac. Her fingers clawed at her chest and the bandages still wrapped around it. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She closed her eyes as she slammed her head back against the headrest, her chest heaving as she tried to take slower deeper breaths. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t watch this happen. Not again.

A sudden knock at the car window made her jump. “Mrs Parker?” a concerned voice called out. “Mrs Parker, are you okay?” The voice asked again.

She reluctantly began to climb out of the car, smoothing down her clothes, a false air of composure washing over her. “Yes, Henry.” she said, flashing him a smile. “Is our Captain here yet?”

“He’s still filing a couple pieces of paperwork before we can leave, but there is someone else here to see you.”

“Who?” she quickly said, panic flying into her voice.

“Umm he didn’t really give his-”

“Angel.” A gruff voice said from the shadows of the hanger.

Angel frowned as a figure dressed in a deep red suit, with a cowl that had short horns like a devil sticking out from the top, stepped out from the shadows. “Ma-” She went to say his name but caught herself. She curtly turned her head to dismiss Henry to chase up the Captain of the jet and start unloading her cases from the car. She slowly stepped closer to the shadows of the hanger and the figure waiting.

“Matt?” she said again, questioning his presence. Matt Murdock did a quick check before deeming the coast was clear and removing his mask to her. 

After Peter had hung up his suit, there was a vacuum for vigilante work. Matt, a pro bono lawyer by day, who eventually came to be a regular at F.E.A.S.T, had taken his own umbridge with her Father’s work. He had decided to don his own vigilante suit and cause problems for her Father in Peter’s wake. Things had come to a head a between them a few years back when Matt realised Peter had been Spider-Man. Peter and Angel had promised to keep his secret safe in exchange for Matt leaving their business alone. It had also helped that they were setting up the first hub at the time and offered Matt a salary to work with clients through the community space.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I tried to call your number but you weren’t picking up. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Wait, Matt, how did you know I was even gonna be here.”

“The Vulture.” Matt said hastily.

“Wait, what?” Angel said before Matt could get another word out.

“I found where he’s been hanging out. After your Dad died I started doing my own digging because something didn’t feel right. He’s been watching you guys.” Matt informed.

“Well, yeah-” she started to say but Matt cut her off, realising she wasn’t understanding what he meant.

“He has all these cameras set up. At your house, the apartment you guys are staying in. May’s place, the hubs, all of it.”

“What?” she frowned. “But how? I mean, the only people who have access to those places are- what is it?” she asked, noticing how Matt’s face changed to one of sorrow.

“That’s the real reason I needed to talk to you. I tried to call Peter too but he wasn’t picking up.”

“Matt, what is it?” Angel asked hastily, a look of panic and worry now on her face.

“He’s been playing you guys this whole time.”

“What- who has?”

“Harry.”

Angel froze at his words. Harry. Harry Osborn. Pete’s best friend. The thorn in her side from day one who she put up with because it was his money, from his Dad’s death, that had funded everything in the beginning. “I don’t understand.” she said as she tried to process what Matt was saying, her brain taking longer to fully acknowledge all the things suddenly flying through it.

“He’s been working with The Vulture this whole time.” Matt began to explain. “Toomes is just a cover, a boogie man for hire. Osborn’s been the one planning and instigating all of this.”

“But, why?” Angel asked with a now paranoid look over her shoulder at the sound of Henry and the Captain coming back towards the hangar.

“He found out what Peter did to his Father.”

Angel looked confused. “What do you mean, what Pete did to his Father? Norman was ill.”

“How do you think he got ill?” Matt asked.

“He said it was a genetic thing.”

“Funny that Harry has never had any symptoms.” Matt tried to help her understand.

“Wait, are you trying to tell me Peter poisoned Harry’s Dad?”

“I mean Norman did kill the love of his life.” Angel’s face fell and he knew he’d used the wrong words, but he couldn’t take them back. 

She tried to shake it off, her brain slowly connecting dots in her brain she hadn’t known were there. “You’re talking about Gwen.”

“Chief Stacy’s daughter. Yes.”

Angel took a step back shaking her head. Her hands began raking through her hair again, her breathing becoming more laboured. “How long? Do you know how long he’s known?” She asked, doubling back towards Matt.

Matt shook his head. “But I do know he’s planning on killing him. You can’t leave.” Matt said, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “If you leave he doesn’t stand a chance.”

She stood frozen, her brain rapidly trying to weigh up the pros and cons whilst simultaneously trying to come up with a plan. Matt’s phone began to ring and they broke apart so he could answer it, Angel beginning to pace back and forth while she ruminated on her options.

“Uh huh. Uh huh.” she heard Matt say down the phone. “Okay.” he said before hanging up, the motion pulling her from her thoughts.

“What is it?”

“I was able to clone the feed from their surveillance cameras.” he paused as he tried to find the right way to tell her. “They’ve taken Peter.”

It was like someone had just dunked her in an ice bath, the sudden shock snapping her from the fog in her brain. “Where?” she commanded, her gaze growing dark.

“A warehouse on the other side of the river.”

“I need you to message me the address.” she half shouted at him as she began to back away from him, racing back towards the car.

“Mrs Parker?” Henry called as he noticed her reaching for the door handle.

“Trips off, Henry.” she shouted as she pulled open the drivers door and climbed into the car. 

She started the car, revving it for good measure before she did a U turn on the tarmac and began speeding back the way she had initially come.

Her brain was on autopilot as she began to drive not towards the city, but the house. She hadn’t been back since the night of the shoot out but it was the only place she could think of to get supplies.

She sped onto the driveway, gravel flying everywhere as she powered towards the garage at the back of the house. As she pulled up her phone chirped, a message from Karen with the address of the warehouse. She ignored it for the moment as she raced to get out of the car. 

She was relieved when she checked the garage door and it flew open with eaze. Without any cars in the garage now to conceal it, she raced over to the hatch in the floor in the back corner, heaving the metal grate that covered it out of the way.

She climbed down the metal ladder, her feet slipping on a couple of the rungs in her haste. The automatic lights began to turn themselves on with her presence as she began to assess the space. Most of the shelves had been emptied already. ‘FUCK!’ She thought. But then she noticed the marks on the floor next to a stack of shelves.

Angel moved closer, kneeling down to run her fingers against the drag marks. She quickly stood, her hands taking purchase at one end of the shelves to begin shifting them in the same directions as the marks. She was relieved to find a large reinforced door hidden behind the shelves, a keypad in the wall beside it.

She breathed deeply, wincing at the pinch in her ribs with the exertion of moving the shelves but she couldn’t dwell on it, her husband needed her. “Come on, Pete.” she muttered to herself as she began to rack her brain for potential codes.

She started with her birthday. After all, it had been the code he had used for the house. No.

Next she tried their anniversary. Nope. “Okay.” she sighed. She began punching the numbers in for Aunt May’s birthday. Still no. “Oh come on Pete.” Then it hit her. She racked her brain for the numbers before punching them in. 03-13-14. Beep. Click. 

The moment and realisation that the code had been Gwen's death date was bittersweet, as the door slid sideways as it opened. Her fondness for her husband, mixed with his continued self punishment for what had happened to Gwen all those years ago, made for a melancholy feeling. It was soon pushed to the side by a whole different feeling of shock and surprise. As fluorescent lighting illuminated the room, she found herself tentatively stepping forward. It was like stepping back in time. His old suits stood on mannequins in glass boxes. Old newspaper headlines had been framed and hung on the walls. Old blueprints for web shooters lay scattered across a desk. She pressed a button on the desk and another hidden door opened. 

When she stepped forward there was a mixture of old Spider-man gear as well as a wall covered in weapons more aligned to his current work; guns, knives, small flash bombs. 

She turned and grabbed a bag and began filling it with different weapons. She grabbed an ankle holster, strapping it and a small gun to her right leg before she grabbed another gun and slotted it into her waistband. She was about to leave when she froze, her body slowly turning towards his old spider-man gear. She found herself moving towards it, a nostalgia washing over her body. She picked up one of his web shooters, turning it over in her hands. She tossed it up in the air once, then twice as she thought, before placing it too in the bag and leaving.

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ANDREW GARFIELD

and his agent at Frieze London last week.

(source)